Poems by Anne Sexton
In The Deep Museum
... I touch fine cloth with my hand and my cheeks are cold ...
The Lost Ingredient
... toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost ...
The Fury Of Guitars And Sopranos
... I drew wine. At the mound of her legs ...
The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man
... . He should have known!In the first place who builds up such ugliness ...
The Fury Of Flowers And Worms
... I would like to think that no one would die anymore ...
Some Foreign Letters
... You rattled down on the train to catch a steam boat for home ...
Small Wire
... as many angels dance on the head of a pin ...
Hornet
... he wants to climb out of the toilet when you sit on it ...
Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall
... I only said how I want to be there and I ...
The Fury Of Sundays
... Moist, moist, the heat leaking through the hinges, ...
The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts
... but I tell you that just once am I in the stirrups, ...
The Firebombers
... We pack them in crates like cauliflowers ...
For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach
... We flopped down upon a towel to grind the sand ...
The Fury Of God's Good-bye
... who walks out when you're clean ...
The Fury Of Cooks
... Give me some tomato aspic, Helen! ...
